Bitter
by nic3
Summary: Thoughts of hope, love; all things completely uncharacteristic of Cypher


**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me. I am but a lame-ass writer of bad fiction. Much apologies to all those people who do actually own things, as I have shamelessly butchered one of your characters. 

**Rating:** PG-13 is for language. If you believe that is too mild tell me, though I will believe that you are vastly underestimating kids these days. 

**A.N.** This story has been on my computer for months waiting to be made longer, as it is very short. I have given up on that plan due to the fact that I have nothing more to write. I just love Cypher. 

**BITTER**

They think they've found him. The one. I watched them all when Morpheus broke the news, all of their eyes lighting up with hope. All except for her, but then she's never been like the others. I mentally laughed at them. There may be only one, but there have been a lot of these announcements. Yet they still hope. I wonder when the old fool will give it up and realize that the oracle doesn't know shit and that he's never going to be the hero by association that he stupidly aspires to be. Every possibility and it's another disappointment for them all. I wonder when they'll get it through their heads that he's never coming back. That this whole thing is just some dumb folklore and that no great hero is going to save their sorry asses from this hellhole. It just doesn't happen that way. Not in the _real_ world. 

What I refuse to admit now is that I used to crave just the opportunity of being the 'one'. I had never even been considered, you see. I was never a possibility and even now I wonder why. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm obviously a hell of a lot smarter then the majority of my shipmates; especially the goddamned captain and even he'd been thought to be the 'one' once. I think that maybe if I had been their savior, I might have been able to stand this _life_. I assume though that even then it wouldn't have been enough to redeem this dead world. It definitely wouldn't have been able to change who I am. I've never taken very well to being ordinary. In the matrix I was at least original. I was more intelligent then the vast majority and I lived by my own rules. I was slightly superior then and yet I'd still hated it. I'm the type of person who likes to be important. I like to have some kind of influence. In thisworld I'm just another former copper top now soldier who can't even control his own life, let alone other people's. I'm just like everyone else. I hate everything about this world, but I loathe the fact that I am nothing. 

There's something about the latest in our string of possibilities that I don't like. The last time I had been scheduled to monitor him I had found Trinity there. It had not been her turn to watch, that I knew. I try not to think about the fact that she's becoming a little too involved with this one. She's not stupid. She doesn't buy into this 'one' crap anymore then I do. And yet she likes to watch him. My mind knows that she has never been like this with any of the others, that he is different. I choose to ignore it. It was my turn to watch and so I watched, and I wondered, as I still do now, what it is about this guy that makes him so fucking special anyway. Then Trinity had moved to leave the room and I had realized that she was still there and that I was still glaring at the screen like a freaking psycho. I always did make a good impression. But then again she's starting to buy into all this hype and I can't stand it. 

Anyone else on this ship and I wouldn't have even thought about it. She's never been 'everyone else'. She walks by and I forget everything in that second and hate myself for it. Every glimpse I catch of her I'm reliving my entrance into this world. The knowledge that this thing is breathtaking and frightening and inescapable, whatever it may be. She's a mystery and I like it. But I like control more, and nothing will ever make me lose that. Not even her. 

I dreamt about her again last night. Weird, twisted, sick dreams where we're in paradise and I'm the hero who's saved her from this nightmare of a world. In those dreams she'd always loved me. They'd been sweet and nice and pretty and even thinking about those dreams now I have an aching feeling in my heart, and that's not me. Dreams like that make me want to find something randomly sharp and cut my own heart out. Originally I'd dreamed of nothing but sex with her, after all she's a beautiful woman and I'm only human. Sex is something I can deal with. I'd give anything for those original lascivious thoughts I had of her to return. I'm incapable of love. I don't love her, she'll never love me, and this is ridiculous.

I may not be much of anything in this world, but I know what love is. I know love as I know hate. It's not perfect and it's not sweet. Love is bitter. Love is hating something or someone so much for what they are; a constant reminder of everything that you will never be and can never have. 

And who needs that shit anyway? 


End file.
